


The Cards are Down

by coricomile



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Rough Sex, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fuck you," he breathes out as he arches up. His ribs poke out, one, two, three, caging in his bitch cold heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cards are Down

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [The Cards are Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910918) by [eivery_al](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eivery_al/pseuds/eivery_al)



> Hiatus-era angst. Potential warnings for an implied eating disorder.

There's something off about it; sheets that are never really clean and dirty skin and lies, lies, lies, all piled up into a mountain that's toppling down, word by word by motherfucking word.

Patrick's turned into nothing but skin and bone, a shadow of who he used to be, and Pete hates it, wants him back. He bites the jut of Patrick's hipbone and thinks about the give that had been there months ago. He drags his nails over Patrick's concave stomach and thinks about fucking him raw when he was young, all elbows and knees and too little self esteem.

Patrick's naked to his underwear, pale and bones and stubborn strength as he backs Pete against the wall. His hands look huge on his thin wrists, feel rougher than they should as he jerks open Pete's jeans. It feels like a fist fight without the fists, bitter and raw and open.

They don't kiss so much as aruge, their mouths pressed together tight, tongues sliding wet and dirty. Pete pinches the skin above Patrick's heart. _This is mine, you can't take it back._

Pete flips them around and pins Patrick to the wall. Patrick's head bounces off it, his teeth clacking together. His face is pink all over, the flush going all the way down to his belly as he undoes the fly of his pants. 

Pete rips them off and throws them onto the bed. Ashlee's dress for the closing of the play is still laid out over the sheets, red and silky and small, unassuming. She'll never know and he'll never tell.

Patrick tries to turn, but Pete won't let him. He spits in his hand and reaches back, prodding at Patrick's hole indelicately. Patrick hisses, hitching his leg over Pete's hip. Hs knee is bony, sharp against Pete's waist as he curls his calf around Pete's back.

Inside, Patrick's hot and tight, a decade of familiar. Pete fingers him- one, two, three- quick before the wife and kid come home to see. There's condoms in the dresser drawers, but Pete reaches for Patrick's other thigh and hefts him up, pressing him into the wall and lining up. Patrick's stiff as a feather, light as a board as Pete thrusts into him, too hard and too fast.

It's good, angry and fast and hard. _You should have stayed mine_. Pete sinks his teeth into Patrick's shoulder, little half moons left behind. The back of Patrick's skull _thump, thump, thumps_ against the wall, his nails digging into Pete's back as he tries to hang on.

Pete reaches between them and fits his hand around Patrick's cock, jerking him unsteadily. It's hot and thick, damp at the tip as Pete fucks him, the burn in his thighs sweet as gold.

"You should have stayed," Pete says, choked sounds under the breathy little _ah, ah, ah_ s Patrick's making. Patrick digs his nails in further.

"Fuck you," he breathes out as he arches up. His ribs poke out, one, two, three, caging in his bitch cold heart. 

Pete, he comes. _This is mine_. He bites down at the curve of shoulder and throat, sucks until Patrick lets go, wet and sticky between their bellies. He looks like the best kind of wreck, pink pale cheeks and throat and purple red hickeys across his skin.

He limps when he leaves, dressed up in clothes that fit, clothes that no longer hide him, and Pete feels coldness sink into his chest as he watches him go.


End file.
